July 15, 2003 - 8:10 p.m.

I get the Pinnacle of Douchedom award for the day. I went to make my online car payment, and just before I clicked the mouse, my beloved cat Al jumped from the window and landed on the keypad. Thus altered my online check amount from $280 to $553.43. I don't know about you, but I certainly do not have several hundred extra dollars just chilling out in the ol' account. The credit people provided a telephone number on my receipt, so I called them to explain the situation. The woman I spoke with was less than helpful, so I called my bank and Stopped Payment on the goddamn thing. I'll mail the fucking check in, thank you very much, and I do not give a shit how late it will be.

I hate the car payment people. Fucking douchebags. Who the hell would be so mean as to give me a 22 1/4% interest rate on a fucking 2000 Ford Focus??? A $10,000 car is going to cost me $17,000 by the time I am done paying for it, and be worth $1.50 (only if the gas tank is full and I leave the CD player in).

I will tell you why I have a 22 1/4% rate. I applied for (and received) SIX fucking credit cards when I was in college. Stupid stupid. It should be illegal to get a credit card until you are 25 years old. Why was I so dumb??? I used about $3000 in credit for booze, cigarettes, CD's, a stereo, and pizza. And I was so alternately drunk and hungover I rarely paid them in a timely fashion. Goodbye credit rating. Goodbye.

I paid them all off over four years ago, and there still is no forgiveness. I guess today's little adventure isn't going to help anything, either.

In brighter news, I might be having sex this weekend. Lots to be done.

Nair legs

Purge bikini area of all unsightly hair

Pedicure (including adorable faux gemstone thingys I have to glue on my toenails)

Purchase bra and underwear suitable for male viewing

Refill birth control prescription

Purchase condoms

Locate Marvin Gaye CD

In even brighter news, had long talk with best friend today regarding my life. I have realized that forgiveness is something I am completely capable of. I am just letting go.

I am referring to my old friend that I unlovingly have come to only know as WPOS, or Worthless Pile of Shit.

When I go way back into the cobwebs of my memory, I remember that he was my best friend before drunken and/or stoned sex seemed like a good idea. We did everything together, and had no secrets.

He was the first person to come to my rescue after I was raped by even more former boyfriend PRRB. He helped my mother move her stuff out of the house when she left my father. He brought me and some of my single friends roses one Valentine's Day when we were all single and depressed. He fixed my car system when it broke. He was the only friend in our little syringe queasy clique that volunteered to learn how to inject me with epinephrine if I was stung by a bee when we were camping. He danced with me at a formal, abandonning his own date, when I was a wallflower because my date was throwing up rum in the bathroom. He taught me that loud music would solve most problems. He taught me how to smoke pot (a habit given up years ago by both of us). He taught me how to drink like a man. He taught me to love wrestling. And now, he has taught me forgiveness.

Even in our relationship he has taught me a few things (how to accept love, how to give a proper blow job). How can I ever forget that? Once the anger and pain are gone, there are only happy memories. And I miss my friend. Will now be ready for reunion party.

And will now try to stop calling him WPOS. His name is Matt.

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